Answering the Why
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tag to Caged. Oneshot. Just a little introspective moment that I wish they had put in the episode...which I still loved. Major spoilers for the episode; so don't read if you don't want to know what happened.


**A/N:** This is a tag for last night's episode: _Caged_. Thus, it has major spoilers for said episode. It's just a scene I wished had happened...and made an already awesome episode even better. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever, owned NCIS, real or fictional. I am not making money off this. More's the pity.

* * *

**Answering the Why  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Tim took his time leaving NCIS. It gave the mechanic a little leeway and...well, for all the lightness of the aftermath, there were some...some _things_ he needed to think about. When he finally left, his car was outside like he had told the mechanic it should be, but he didn't drive it home. He parked it at NCIS and sat outside, thinking.

The faces of the different prisoners went through his head. Lopez, a drug addict and killer. Bellows, an abused woman trying to do the best for her children, even from prison. Williams, a convicted felon who actually recognized what she did was wrong. ...and Celia Roberts. He couldn't put a label on her, not even in his mind.

Was she guilty? Not of Trimble's murder. He knew that...but of the first murders that had put her in prison in the first place... What about those? ...and if she had...did this one act of mercy do anything to counteract those crimes? Why had she done it? Why admit to the other murder, the one that had brought _him_ to the prison? She hadn't seemed very sympathetic, not to anything. She had seemed...hard.

The sun was long down. He could even see some of the stars...but his mind wasn't on them. His mind was on this very long day. It was on Williams and Roberts. Those two who had shattered some of the stereotypes he'd unconsciously constructed.

He had smiled at the jibes and the compliments from his friends, but he couldn't smile now. Trimble...the words Tim would have liked to use to describe him would have resulted in his mother washing his mouth out with several bars of soap. He was supposed to be the good guy. Supposed to be...and he was a sicko of the highest order. He had... Even now, Tim's mind recoiled at the thought of what Zoe Bellows had gone through. It was sick, perverted...and Tim would have liked to have been the one to rid the world of him, and _that_ made him wonder why he felt so strongly about it. It wasn't like he had never seen that kind of scum before, but...

"Still here, McGee." It wasn't a question.

"Just thinking, Boss."

"Couldn't think anywhere else?"

Tim looked up at Gibbs as he sat down beside him.

"Don't know. Probably not as well."

"You doing okay?"

"I don't know," Tim said and shrugged. "Should I be?"

"There aren't any _shoulds_ in something like this."

"Good to know."

"It was pretty intense in there, wasn't it."

"Yes...but not in the way you mean."

"What do I mean?" Gibbs asked, sounding amused.

"I wasn't afraid, not after the first bit...at first, I thought for sure they were going to..."

"Going to what?"

Tim swallowed. Yeah, that part had been bad and he was still amazed that his mind had worked so well. "They were going to cut off my finger and send it out as proof they were serious." He hadn't mentioned that before...never any time to. "I was scared then...but not after that. That's not what's wrong."

"Then, what is?"

"Celia Roberts. Sharon Bellows. Judy Williams. ...and Trimble."

Gibbs didn't make a reply.

"Trimble...we thought he was the good guy, the prison guard, the murder victim. Now, I think he should have died more slowly. Maybe..." He didn't finish his thought.

Tim waited for something, but Gibbs didn't speak.

"Judy Williams. We say that prisons are supposed to be a punishment, but also rehabilitation in some cases. She...she was...she knew she had done wrong and all she wanted was to find some way to say she was sorry. If prison is supposed to do that, it succeeded with her. She's a murderer, but she...she knows it and admits it...and I feel sorry for her because she'll have that knowledge for the rest of her life."

Another pause. Another silence.

"Sharon Bellows. She was put in prison because her boyfriend was beating her up and she defended herself. She was defending her daughter from a man who was raping her and shooting her up with drugs. She did what the justice system is _supposed_ to do...and it didn't...and she was punished for it."

Tim wanted Gibbs to say something, but he just sat beside him, looking out across the park.

"Celia Roberts. A convicted serial killer. She didn't care about anyone, didn't care about the family...and yet...she took the rap for murder _and_ she admitted to the other one as well. I don't know if I believe that she's sorry, but she said it anyway. I don't know why."

Again, Tim waited and still Gibbs said nothing.

"I just don't get it, Boss."

"What is there to get, McGee? Do you expect people to be perfect or to fit into a mold?"

"No, I don't," Tim said, momentarily losing patience. "I don't think that...but..."

"But what?"

"But...today. Why is it that...of all the people this affected, why is that I'm only worried about the ones who...who are still behind bars? Why is it that I don't care about Trimble or Lambro or Brenda Carter or the warden...or even the family of that man who...who was killed? I care about Judy Williams and Sharon Bellows. I care about...Celia Roberts. Why?"

"Why not?"

"They're criminals...all of them. They killed people."

"They're people, McGee. It's easy to forget that, but all of them, even Trimble, are people. It's not wrong to care about people."

"I don't care about Trimble," Tim said savagely. "He's a..."

"Yeah, he is."

"It's just all screwed up."

"That's life, McGee. Are you just figuring that out now?" Gibbs asked, again sounding amused.

Tim wasn't amused. He was bothered and confused and... He stood up. "No, I'm not, Boss!" He started to walk away.

"McGee, wait."

Tim stopped and turned back. Gibbs was standing now, as well, not smiling.

"What, Boss?"

"You were stuck with a bunch of people today in a high-stress situation. They all have complicated histories...most of them wouldn't be in prison otherwise. You had to deal with them by yourself...and you did a good job of it. It's not wrong to identify with them a little."

"So...how much is too much?"

"That's something you'll have to figure out, McGee. Do you think it's a problem?"

"I don't know. I just don't know, Boss. Most of them, even the ones who weren't main players, all they wanted was for it to be over. They didn't want, like Lopez, to hurt me and the other guards. They wanted their families to be safe and for nothing to happen to them. That's all...just like any other person would have wanted." Tim hesitated. "What about the other people we arrest? Whether they're guilty or not..."

"We still have to do our jobs, McGee," Gibbs interrupted. "I don't blame you for feeling overwhelmed by this. You were totally in control in there and that takes a lot of effort. It's only natural that it would come out now. You'll have to be debriefed, and while I don't think much of shrinks, if you're having trouble with it, you need to bring it up."

Tim nodded, but he felt uncertain. It must have shown on his face because Gibbs came closer.

"Don't stress about it. You're still coming off a major event...and like I said, it's not wrong what you're feeling."

"I just..." Tim sighed. "...I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Go home and get some sleep, McGee. You've earned it."

Tim shook his head. "I think I'm going to stay here for a little while, Boss."

"Don't stay all night. If I get here tomorrow morning and find you sleeping on the bench..."

Tim smiled. "You won't."

"Okay...but you have any problems, just give me a call."

"Okay."

Tim watched Gibbs walk to his car and drive away. Then, he sat down on the bench again and tried to sort through his feelings. He felt like today had lasted years. He felt old...and totally at sea.

_At sea. A nice naval metaphor, Tim,_ he thought to himself. He chuckled, but then, Judy Williams rose up in his mind again and her words repeated...that she wanted to find the soul of the person she'd killed and say she was sorry.

_Sorry doesn't remove the stain,_ Tim said to himself, but at the same time, he couldn't help but disagree with that thought. Maybe sorry did more than he thought. Maybe not.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

An hour later, he was still no wiser, but he was getting cold and decided to give it up for the night...but when he started his car, it didn't head to Silver Spring as he had intended.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He knocked a little nervously on the door. Gibbs opened it a few seconds later...and didn't seem surprised to see him.

"Hey, Boss."

"What do you need, McGee?"

"Just...just some company...if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Come on down."

Tim followed Gibbs down to the basement and sat, not speaking, as Gibbs worked on his boat. He just sat on the stairs. Gibbs didn't talk and neither did he. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to think anymore. He just wanted...quiet, but not alone. No one else would have understood that need.

After another hour, he fell asleep. Gibbs noticed and smiled at the sight of his agent slumped on the stairs. Eventually, he'd have to do something about that or else Tim would end up with a major crick in his neck, but it could wait for a little while. He knew Tim was a thinker. He had proved, multiple times, that he was a doer as well, but in his soul, he was a thinker...and too much thinking about life's inconsistencies could drive a man crazy. Tim needed time to assimilate what had happened, and after speaking with him, Gibbs was sure that was pretty much _all_ Tim needed. Time, a little space, and, he thought wryly, maybe a little time with a shrink. But he'd be okay. That was the most important thing.

A good man could have lost his life today, but he hadn't.

Life wasn't fair, but in this instance, that fact was all Gibbs cared about.

FINIS!


End file.
